Watchmaker
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 2: Weight
The Plaster Was Rough, Cold, and Unyielding.
Dr. Kopp worked in silence, dipping the strips into the basin and wrapping them carefully around her lower leg. Each turn drew the white bandages tighter, sealing her foot into stillness. Elise watched, numb, as her own skin disappeared beneath his hands — layer after layer until it no longer looked like a limb, but a cast of one.
“Hold still,” he said softly. “We need the angle exact.”
She obeyed, but her toes twitched involuntarily, small rebellions against confinement. The plaster hardened quickly, trapping them.
When he finished, he stepped back, checking the alignment. The air smelled faintly of wet chalk and disinfectant. Her leg lay heavy on the table, alien — no longer part of her, just something she was attached to.
“Give it a few minutes,” he said. “Let it set.”
She stared at it in disbelief. A week ago, that foot had carried her through rehearsal. Now it was a pale, immovable thing.
When the plaster had dried, he brought the crutches. He adjusted them without comment, measuring her height and arm span, lowering the grips with precise, mechanical care.
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